Do You Hear The Music?
by James B. Moore
Summary: Roderich is a privileged, aristocrat of a 10-year-old child,and his mother is one of the most renowned doctors at Baylor Hospital. He is basically perfect in every single way, except for one thing: His sense of direction is awry. So when he gets lost in the halls, does he find a new friend? Such a high-class boy such as himself shouldn't associate with lower-class children, right?
1. Our Music

**A/N: Wrote this for school, decided to share it with you guys.**

A tall young woman walked down the hospital halls, clutching a clipboard to her chest and holding the hand of a 10-year-old boy. She held her head high as she walked, her long, wavy, caramel brown hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her face was narrow and long, and emerald green eyes stood out in contrast to her slightly tan skin. Compared to the child walking beside her, she was quite tall, emphasized by the long white coat that stopped at her knees.  
"Roderich, could you please try to smile? You've had that frown on your face ever since I picked you up from your violin lessons." Elizabeta Herdivary was a renowned doctor at Baylor Hospital, graduating at the top of her class, and also being one of the youngest doctors in the USA. And in addition to that, she was also a single mother to one of the most talented musical prodigies to ever exist.  
The little boy did not respond, instead loosening his grip on his mother's hand, and tightening his grip on the violin case he was carrying. He would never be so rude as to admit this out loud, but he would have preferred to continue practicing his violin. Auburn locks were gelled back, and he had a narrow face like his mother's, but instead, purple eyes framed by thin, wire glasses stared out at the world in contrast to pale white skin. He was a little over half his mother's size, but that might as well have been an illusion considering how often he wore his high heeled dress shoes. He refused to wear anything other than brand name, high class, purple designer outfits, and when he was denied this privilege by a maid or butler, they were instantly fired. All in all, this boy was a spoiled, little, aristocrat.  
After a good stretch of silence, save for the screams of a little boy down the hall crying about his "big brother" or something of that sort and the standard machine noises coming from the patients' rooms, Elizabeta sighed. As much as she supported her son's musical career, she really wished he would take an interest in medicine. Sure, little Roderich was a prodigy _now_ but what about later? 5 years? 10 years? If he were to become a doctor, he would truly have a happy future, or at least that's what she believed. Forcing a smile on her face, she led her son through the halls, past patient's rooms, and towards the break room.  
"I'm sorry that I couldn't drop you off at home, but you know how busy Mommy is with the patients and all. For now, just wait here until I get another break, and then I'll take you home." She pushed open the break room door, revealing a large, cozy looking room with blank white walls, two comfy looking couches, and a snack bar complete with refrigerator.  
"Alright, Mother." Roderich nodded, taking a seat on one of the couches and placing his violin case beside him.  
"Good boy, and if you need to go to the bathroom, it's out the hall and to the left. it should be the...third door to your right?" She paused, looking up as if to double check her mental map. She nodded, confirming the directions to herself and looked back down to her son. "Third door to your right." She declared, her voice more confident.  
Roderich nodded slowly, humming a new piece of music to himself; one he composed on his own, of course. Once again, he didn't respond verbally, and Elizabeta shook her head with a small chuckle.  
"I'll see you later." She leaned down, kissing the top of his head. She glanced up at a nearby clock, which read 2:15, before checking her own watch which was fastened tightly to her wrist. "Oh dear, it's getting pretty late. Be good!" She said one last time, before turning around to run out of the room. The door shut behind her with a soft _'THUMP' _and young Roderich was left on his own.  
Before long, Roderich had to go to the bathroom. A small sigh escaped the boy's lips, he didn't want to have to disobey Mother, but when the time comes the time comes. On instinct, his fingers wrapped around the grip on his violin case, the custom molded plastic so familiar, he didn't realize he had picked up the violin. And with that, he walked out, violin in hand, ready to go straight down the hall to his left and take the eighth door to his left past the hallway. He stepped towards his left, his face hardened with determination, and there were tapping noises as his steps hit the tile floors. Along the way, he realized he was carrying his violin, but he simply shrugged it off. After all, a hospital must have _somewhere_ sanitary to place personal items. About 15 minutes later, he entered a closed off room, quietly shutting the door behind him. As soon as he turned around, he sensed that something was amiss with the room, his first clue being the floor-length curtain that blocked the inner parts of the room from the door. He set his violin down and paused, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Odd…Mother _did_ tell me to go in the twelfth door to my right. Perhaps I made a mistake." He mumbled, pushing the curtain to the side.

For some reason, something compelled Roderich to further investigate, maybe it was just his youthful curiosity, or maybe it was his need to ask directions to the bathroom. Whatever it was, something urged the little boy to turn on the lights, to reveal a room that seemed different from all the others. Gone were the bright, white walls, replaced with stained walls that seemed to be gray. The carpet was dark, almost as if there had been many spills and accidents, but no one had ever bothered to clean them up. And what stuck out the most was the frail little boy, with short, gray hair, and pale skin that slept peacefully next to a machine whose beeping noise was horrifyingly slow.

Now, young Roderich was definitely a man of manners, but he really was not a man with a large bladder. The other child on the bed was sleeping so peacefully, with such a calm, relaxed look on his face, but Roderich _really_ needed to find a bathroom. And when given the options to be a gentleman, or to find bathroom, the decision wasn't hard for a child.

"Excuse me." Roderich cleared his throat, fidgeting from side to side with impatience. When the little boy, who seemed to be about Roderich's age if not older, did not move, Roderich tried again but a little louder. "_Excuse me." _Once again, Roderich received no response, and now he was hopping from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry but I really need you to wake up!" He exclaimed, expelling all the air out of his lungs. Still no response. Roderich could not wait any longer; he was being forced to resort to squeezing his legs together in agonizing torture. He briskly walked to the bedside, and roughly shook the boy awake, almost like the term "hospital patient" had no meaning to him whatsoever.

The boy's eyes fluttered open, revealing dull red eyes, and he sat up slowly, a silent yawn escaping his lips. He stared at Roderich quizzically, tilting his head as if to emphasize just how confused he was at the moment. But still, he spoke no words.

"I'm very sorry to disturb you, but I'm in need of the bathroom. Could you tell me where to find it?" Austria asked, wringing his hands together.

The boy nodded, pointing to the left. Roderich's head swiveled in the direction of the boy's hand, and he sighed in relief, before dashing into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. When he came back out, the boy was holding a small white-board in his lap and an Expo marker in his hand. When he saw Roderich, his eyes lit up, and he flipped over the white board.

"Hi, my name is Gilbert the Awesome." Roderich read aloud. Almost immediately, Roderich's eyes narrowed into a glare at the obnoxious, barely readable handwriting. "If you're going to write something idiotic, why don't you just talk?" He spat, disdain dripping in his tone of voice.

Almost instantly, Gilbert flipped his board back over and scribbled down a response. "Read the clipboard, Specs."

Scoffing, Roderich picked up the patient examination report lying on the counter and skimmed through the neatly written details. His eyes widened once he found what he was looking for.

"Patient is healthy but tumor has caused loss in hearing?" Roderich looked up from the clipboard. "You're deaf? Then how was it possible that you-"

"I'm deaf, not stupid. It's called reading lips, Specs." Gilbert held the board up, a smirk playing on his lips.

Roderich was infuriated; he had never met someone so annoying, so idiotic, and so immature. And most of all, what did he mean by "Specs?" "Excuse me, Gilbert. It is Gilbert, correct? Why do you continue to call me Specs?"

His smirk grew wider, and he wrote his next reply with even more enthusiasm. "1, you're pretty stuck up for a kid. 2, nice glasses, dork."

Roderich's face darkened to a pink hue, his blush becoming worse by the second. In his mind, he was superior to this insolent boy, it didn't even matter that he was in the hospital; he was judging using the basis of intelligence. And to Roderich, it seemed as if Gilbert had none.

"That's rude, and you don't even know who I am. I am Roderich Herdivary, the next musical genius." He declared, his glare never weakening.

"Music, huh? Why don't you play something?" Gilbert responded, staring at Roderich, as if he were expecting a miracle.

"Play? What's the point when you can't even-"

Gilbert cut Roderich off, holding up his whiteboard which said in all capital letters, and underlined a few times "PLAY."

Roderich sighed in submission, his shoulders slouching as he walked towards his violin case with a pout on his face. But when he opened the case, and took the violin in his hands, he instantly relaxed. Roderich slipped into concert mode, his posture changing, his way of walking became more confident, and so many more small changes that just seemed to make a big difference, or at least to Gilbert, who was watching. When Roderich finished setting himself up at the front of the room, Gilbert realized that there was no music stand, or sheet music. He laughed to himself, what kind of prodigy doesn't have sheet music? Roderich must have been lying-

But then Roderich began playing.

Gilbert couldn't hear the music, but he could see the way Roderich played. He seemed to sway with each note, every move graceful and seemingly planned out, but still managing to look natural. And his face, oh Roderich's face. Gone was the stuck up, spoiled, brat Gilbert had grown accustomed to in the short time they spent together, replaced with the face of a mature young man, carefree and happy. Gilbert had never been so mesmerized, not even when he still had the ability to hear. He didn't even notice the piece come to an end.

Roderich placed his instrument on the table, shyly glancing back at Gilbert for some sort of response. All his life, he'd played for adults, fellow musicians, judges, but never had he played for someone his own age. He'd always assumed they were all too immature to understand the depth of music. But here, here was a deaf child who asked him to play. It was only obvious that he would want a response back.

"So, Gilbert…" Roderich trailed off, waiting for an answer. When Gilbert didn't provide one, Roderich began to panic. Was Gilbert just messing with him after all? A deaf man wouldn't want someone to play music, right? Then, he realized who he was talking to. Someone who couldn't hear, and judging by the glazed look on his eyes, Roderich assumed he had fallen asleep.

Roderich stepped over to Gilbert, and shook him by the shoulder. Gilbert's head perked back up, and he turned to look at Roderich.

"What did you think? I composed it myself." Roderich explained. "What am I even hoping for? Is it even possible for a deaf man to critique music? Then again, there was always Bach." Roderich thought to himself, careful not to murmur in case Gilbert could read murmurs as well. Roderich watched as Gilbert scribbled something down, slightly suspicious since Gilbert defiantly held the board close to his chest to hide it from Roderich. Finally, Gilbert put his Expo down.

"You look like a girl when you play violin. Dork."

Roderich's blush returned instantly, Gilbert had done it again. No, that imbecile couldn't even take the time to write something serious, instead he was just going to continuously bully him? Roderich would not stand for it. He opened his mouth to speak, stuttering as he searched for the right words to say, but he was cut off by Gilbert's laugh. Roderich's eyes widened in surprise; for someone who was deaf, he had a beautiful laugh. His voice twinkled around the air, his tone seeming to dance around their heads. It was as is his voice was music itself.

"You laugh like a girl. Imbecile." Roderich stated, staring Gilbert in the eyes. It was odd, when he had first met Gilbert , his eyes were dull, and there wasn't a likely friendship to be built. But now? Now, Gilbert just seemed so interesting, ad Roderich was actually taking a liking to this idiot. Perhaps they could be friends; maybe he could even make Gilbert laugh again…

Roderich was ripped out of his thoughts by a brute punch to the arm.

"Hey!" he yelled, rubbing the sore spot on his arm. He glared down at Gilbert, hatred burning in his eyes. "Was that really necessary?" He growled; Roderich could already feel a bruise forming. He was beginning to remember why dreaded Gilbert in the first place. Gilbert shot him an equally powerful glare before holding his white board up.

"The awesome me is too awesome to be a girl. Ew." Roderich rolled his eyes, scoffing at the immaturity of the little boy.

"Gilbert, how old are you?" Roderich prodded, expecting an answer similar to 9 or maybe 10. Of course, judging by his personality and his almost nonexistent intelligence, it wouldn't have surprised Roderich if he answered with 8. What _did_ surprise him however was when Gilbert flipped his board around to reveal the number 11. Roderich 'tsked', this idiot was actually a year older. He turned away to mutter a few choice words to himself, before turning back to discover the message on the board had changed.

"What about you, Specs?" Gilbert's eyes seemed to sparkle, and Roderich groaned. It was as if Gilbert already knew that he was older, and was just asking for fun. When Roderich didn't answer, Gilbert began to poke him with the board.

"Gilbert, would you quit that?" Roderich asked, raising an eyebrow. Gilbert began to poke harder, creasing Roderich's crisply pressed shirt.

"I asked you to stop." Roderich stated, his voice lowering to a menacing tone. Gilbert simply poked harder, and smiled brighter. Another laugh escaped his lips, and Gilbert didn't even notice. Roderich sighed once again; it was becoming a bad habit around this Gilbert guy. "Alright, alright, I'm ten. Are you satisfied?"

For a while, Gilbert did nothing but stare. Then he began chuckling. Then he began full-on laughing. His laugh bounced of the dreary walls, dancing around the room, filling it with the sound of pure happiness. Roderich could feel the heat return to his face, and he lifted a hand to massage his throbbing forehead. Gilbert seemed to be quite entertained using Roderich as a play toy. Gilbert held a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the laughter and failing horribly,. He grabbed a nearby tissue and erased, replacing the previous question with another message.

"No wonder you remind me of my little bro, Ludwig."

Roderich tilted his head in confusion; he had expected Gilbert to be an only child. But then he made a terrible mistake.

"Tell me about him." Roderich said. Just that one sentence.

And suddenly, Gilbert was scrawling things all over his white board, including things like the shine of his brother's blonde hair, to the sparkle of his sea blue eyes, and Roderich was tired after the first five minutes of detail after detail after detail. By the time Gilbert finally got around to explaining what his brother's personality was like, Roderich had pulled up a comfy chair, and was leaning back with his legs crossed. As he ignored the squeaking of the Expo marker, another question crawled its way into Roderich's mind. What was Gilbert In for? His report had said something about a tumor…was it cancer? He glanced over at Gilbert.

Gilbert was busy writing something down on his whiteboard, not looking up at Roderich. Before he could finish however, the door to Gilbert's room was pushed open, and the curtain was swept aside.

"Roderich! There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere. Then, I heard complaints about violins being played and I assumed it was you and- oh. Hello." Elizabeta cut her motherly rant short when she realized that Gilbert was sitting on the bed next to where her son was standing.

Gilbert gave a curt nod, throwing a confused look at Roderich. With a grim expression, Roderich mouthed "My mom." Gilbert nodded with understanding, and smiled at Elizabeta. Meanwhile, Elizabeta was clicking through files on the computer near Gilbert, reading through his file. Though neither of the boys noticed it, her face contorted with a worried expression, but she quickly replaced it with another genuinely fake smile.

"Roderich, honey, I'll take you back to the break room. We'll be going home soon." Elizabeta cooed, closing down the computer files and standing up. She pushed the chair in and began to walk out, but stopped when she realized that she couldn't hear her son's footsteps behind her. "Roddy, aren't you coming?"

"Mother, wouldn't it be alright if I stayed a _little_ longer?" Roderich pleaded, a pout appearing on his face. Elizabeta's breath caught in her throat, this was the first time she'd heard her son whine for _anything_.

"Sorry baby, but we can't." She avoided Gilbert's eyes, she didn't want to separate her son from the only friend he's ever had, nor did she want to make Gilbert's life any harder than it had to be.

"Well…" Roderich paused, trying to come up with a compromise that might possibly satisfy both of their needs. "Would it be possible to stop by before we leave? I can at least say goodbye to him."

Elizabeta shook her head, denying his request. "Just say good bye now, Roderich."

"No, I'll be back later." He said, picking up his violin, and walking over to his violin case to tidy up.

Elizabeta didn't respond, only helping Roderich out the door. "Wait, I just have to clear up a few more things with Gilbert, okay?" She waited for his nod of affirmation before slowly shutting the door behind him. She quickly rushed over to Gilbert's bed. "I am so sorry for the disturbance, Gilbert. I hope he wasn't too much trouble."

Gilbert smiled, shaking his head in disagreement. He held up the whiteboard.

"Actually, if you could grab me a pad of paper, that would be awesome."

Roderich waited outside patiently for his mother, watching a nearby clock's hands move ever so slowly around the clock's face. Suddenly, Elizabeta slipped out of the door, a frown evident on her face. Roderich even thought he saw a few tears trickling down her cheek.

"What's wrong, Mother?" He asked, worried.

"Nothing, just…allergies." She replied, quickly replacing her frown with a smile. "Now, c'mon, follow me. You'll get lost again if I leave you alone." She led Roderich by the hand, back towards the break room. She opened the door for him and let him get comfortable again, before bending down to talk to him. "I'll be back at 8. Please try to keep yourself out of trouble until then, okay?"

Roderich nodded, though he averted his eyes. His mother didn't seem to notice, and she simply ruffled his hair and returned to work. When he was sure she was at least out of the hallway, he released a breath he'd been holding since his mother had let him get comfy. This one time, just this one time, he would disobey Mother's orders. After all, what harm could telling a friend goodbye even do? Roderich pondered the consequences and benefits of his upcoming scheme as he watched time pass on a nearby clock. To stay on the safe side, he waited until 7:00 to initiate his plan.

Step 1: Sneak out. Clutching his violin I hand, he quickly slipped out the door and down the hall.

Step 2: Find room. This step wasn't difficult, all he had to do was turn the corner and-

Something was different.

Even from down the hall, Roderich could hear the screams of another child, one who seemed much younger than Gilbert and himself. His sprint slowed to a jog as he neared what he _thought_ to be Gilbert's room. The screams were echoing from within, and from outside the door he could clearly make out the child's wails.

"Big bwoder! Big bwoder, come back! Why did you die?!" The child's wails pierced through the walls, causing Roderich's ears to ring.

But still, something compelled Roderich to push open the door. Except this time, Roderich's stomach churned as he pushed aside the curtain. Something was not right. Something was really not right. And to his dismay, Roderich's suspicions were proved true.

The bed was empty.

His violin dropped to the ground. Roderich froze with shock at first, reeling backwards and crashing into a wall. It was probably just a bizarre daydream, or if anything, a day-nightmare. And if he pinched himself just right, he would wake up and see Gilbert, sitting in the bed with his handy dandy whiteboard. Roderich lifted a hand to roll up his sleeve, both of his arms shaking as he did so. The room was spinning, why was the room spinning? Nothing made sense anymore, so to prove to himself that he would just wake up from this horrendous hallucination, he lifted a shaky hand and pinched himself, hard. Roderich squeezed his eyes shut and took in a big breath, counting out loud to ten.

"1…..2….3…" Roderich could still hear the wailing of the child; it wasn't working. Why wasn't it working? It had to work, there was no possible way for this to be a reality. He sucked in another deep breath, forcing himself to continue, to ignore the crying. "…4…5…..6….7…8…9..." Roderich took in another breath. "10!" He spat it out, opening his eyes at the same time. He glanced around, realizing that nothing had changed. Tears began to well up in his eyes. The walls seemed to be ash grey, the bed was neatly made, the slow beeping noise had disappeared, and the once messy bed where his best friend had slept, was now clean and crisp, almost as if it were expecting its next victim. "I didn't even get to say goodbye." Roderich whispered, his heart feeling as if it were being stabbed by a million needles. He couldn't take this anymore, he wanted to go home. Of course this had to happen to him, Roderich was sure that this was only fate for him to lose his one friend. He felt tears begin to slide down his cheek, and then the tears became uncontrollable. Aristocrat Roderich was reduced to a hunched over, sobbing, wailing mess, and he couldn't have cared less who saw.

"Are you…Roderich?" A deep, menacing voice rumbled. Intimidated, the young child looked up to see a tall man holding a note. Unable to respond, Roderich quieted his sobbing and nodded. "My son…he left this for you." He took Roderich by the hand, pressing the small, folded paper into his hand. Roderich looked up once again, and this time, the man was giving him a comforting smile.

"Before he…before he died, he told us about you. About how you fought with him, about how you played with him. He talked about you like he talked about Ludwig to his friends at school. He knew his time was coming, and you made him happy. You may not have known, but…thank you."

Roderich felt something tug at his pants. He glanced down to see the face of Ludwig, just as Gilbert described him. Combed back blond hair, crystal clear blue eyes, Gilbert had accurately described his brother down to the last freckle. "You were my bwoder's fwiend, wight?" Ludwig asked, his teary eyes looking up at Roderich with some sort of hope. Roderich could only nod. "And you made him happy?" Ludwig asked, his voice sounding more cheery than before. Roderich smiled, nodding once again. Ludwig smiled brightly, wiping his tears away. "At weast he was happy…"

Roderich muttered a soft "yeah" before glancing back up at the man, who he assumed to be the father. He nodded, and Roderich took that as a sign to read the note. As he unfolded it, he noticed dried tear stains dotted the paper. Was Gilbert crying too? Wiping his tears away, Roderich began to read.


	2. Epilogue

[15 years later]

Roderich entered the banquet hall, a smile on his face, and his trusty violin case at his side. Carrying his violin around was a habit he'd never lost, in fact, over the years it seemed as if he had made it personal law to carry it wherever he went.

The 15 years after Gilbert's death were good to Roderich in so many ways. For one, he had grown to be a beautiful man, all of his childish features smoothing down to become sharp lines that better defined his figure. Now, he stood tall at 5'10, still clad in his signature purple outfit and high-class concert shoes. Every now and then, Roderich would look in the mirror and laugh at himself, because he could swear that he heard Gilbert laughing, and the squeak of the Expo marker on that whiteboard of his. He was just waiting to turn around and find Gilbert holding his white board, "You look like a girl" scrawled messily on its face. It's just that every time Roderich turned around, he was never there.

And his mother was wrong, little concert prodigy Roderich _did _grow up to continue on the path of music, playing at Carnegie Hall by the time he was 16. His greatness didn't stop there, as he composed more original pieces, claimed awards, and became the biggest name in the music industry. That violin he carried everywhere as a child? It was estimated to be worth about 1.2 million dollars when he was 20 and now about 1.5 million; both estimates including the case, of course. But, not once did Roderich ever think of selling his precious violin, or its case. After all, Gilbert's last words were tucked safely away in the velvet lining.

Oh, how he had wanted to play that violin forever. He went against everything he knew to continue to play that childish violin, no longer suited for the growing man he was at the age of 12. But alas, the time came when the sounds he made were a disgrace to Gilbert himself, and he had to exchange it for another. His beloved violin was now tucked away safely in his home, serving its purpose as a memory. Roderich always believed that he had made his best sounds on that violin, but that thought was changing today.

Here he was at another banquet, celebrating the success of yet another concert. But, he did have to admit, this concert was probably one of his favorites, out of all of the ones he had played before. After all, he had introduced his latest and most sentimental piece yet, and he was awaiting the audience's response. Their roaring applause was simply not enough.

"Oh, Roderich! A word? "A large man walked over to Roderich, a jolly smile apparent on his face.

"Ah, just on time. I was just starting to get anxious." Roderich thought to himself, before turning around with a fake smile plastered onto his face. A trait he'd acquired from Mother Dearest, of course. "Of course!" He exclaimed, a sparkle in his eyes.

"Wonderful! What was the title of that last piece you played, the one you used to close the concert? It was astounding! The way the notes were so clear, it was like they were flying! I must admit, it was like nothing I've ever experienced before!" The man chirped, putting forth compliment after compliment, much like a never-ending flood.

"I call it…" Roderich let a smirk play on his lips before he answered the man. "Gilbert."

And somewhere, somehow, Roderich could swear he heard Gilbert's laugh.

**End note: Wow, this one was really popular with my friends, so I decided to finish it up with an epilogue. Thank you for all the faves! And a big thank you to whoever put this in the PruAus group! I hope you all have a good day~**


End file.
